


Auroras and Sad Prose

by SaskiaKieranLuthor



Series: folklore [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/F, Lena Luthor Gets a Hug, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Light Angst, Post-Canon, and reads poetry, basically she fucks off to ireland, how many taylor swift songs can i reference?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaKieranLuthor/pseuds/SaskiaKieranLuthor
Summary: After an unfortunate experience at a game night (post-reconciliation), Lena realises that she'll never really be a part of the group again and decides to move to Ireland and read sad poetry (relatable) because she thinks Kara will be better off without her....Dumbass.Loosely based on The Lakes by Taylor Swift and a lot of Bukowski poetry.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Series: folklore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144457
Comments: 45
Kudos: 417





	Auroras and Sad Prose

**Author's Note:**

> In a creative slump with my current WIPs so I'm tossing this out there to see if it kickstarts the ol' noggin.
> 
> Hope yall like it!

_and now_

_as we ready to self-destruct_

_there is very little left to_

_kill_

_which makes the tragedy_

_less and more_

_much much_

_more_

***

Things still weren’t back to normal. 

Not that Lena really expected them to be. Not after everything that had happened between them, everything that she had done. But she had hoped that they would have returned to a less stiff and stilted association. 

Kara was trying, bless her heart, she was _trying_ to get things back to some semblance of normalcy. Inviting Lena to game nights, lunches -- even some one on one girls nights.

Lena rarely ever attended game nights. Could she really be blamed when everyone handled her like she might snap at any moment and whip out a kryptonite cannon? They all smiled and greeted her politely with the same mechanical grin when she did attend -- and then proceeded to hold her at arm’s length, hesitant to welcome her back into the fold, as if they were all just humouring Kara with this temporary alliance. 

She wished she could just realign herself the way Brainy had -- tap a few dots on her forehead and become a whole new person. Emerge from this stunted chrysalis into something more acceptable, more beautiful.

They had all forgiven _him_ for his dealings with Lex, why not her? _Because he wasn’t himself_ , she knew they would say. Because he had no choice. Because he didn’t _actually_ want to hurt the people he cared about, it was just programming and necessity. He'd seen the future. This was the only way.

_Not like you_ , the voice in her brain that sounded a lot like Alex Danvers helpfully reminded her. 

Lena wished that maybe Kara wasn’t so polite -- that she could just end things between the two of them. Frankly, their friendship _should_ be over, given all the terrible things that had passed between them. Lena herself should have been done with Kara after the betrayal, and Kara should have been done with Lena after her own.

But working alongside the hero to bring Lex down had had the unexpected, yet altogether unsurprising effect of Lena letting the blonde hero burrow back into her heart like some kind of superpowered gopher -- or was termite a more appropriate descriptor? -- along with opening her eyes to reveal more than one very harsh truth.

1: Lena was not a villain. Not really. She’d certainly toed that line for a while, dipped her toe into the villain pool, so to speak, but she wasn’t _really_ one. She didn’t delight in causing harm to the masses or taking over the world or even mind controlling people. Even in her darkest moments she’d only ever wanted to help people. She had just gone about it...really badly.

2: Kara was not a villain either, no matter how much pain and anguish she had caused her, and Lena could not make that pain go away by painting her as some horrible evil that needed to be vanquished. 

And 3: Lena was only in that much pain because she was totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with her.

That one had probably taken the longest to come to terms with, but once she had admitted it to herself, it was like all of the pieces fell into place. Why Kara’s betrayal had hurt so much worse than, say, Andrea’s or Lex’s. She’d been friends with Andrea for much longer, and Christ, Lex was her _brother_ , yet neither of them could have ever hurt her the way that Kara had. 

Because neither of them had her heart in the steel grip of their hand. Neither of them had the power to shatter it into dust and let it mist down to the ground to be trodden on by anyone who happened to pass.

And that brought her to the worst part -- the most _unbearable_ part -- of game night, and the reason why she hardly ever agreed to go. 

William. 

And Kara. 

William and Kara together. Together in a dating sense. (However stiff and forced it looked to Lena.)

Seeing that buffoon drape his muscled arm around Kara’s shoulders, hearing him speak with that obnoxious English accent, it was more than Lena could stand.

Thankfully, they weren’t big on PDA and Lena had never actually witnessed them kissing (or, God help her, _making out_ ) -- Kara always stepped out the door after him to say goodbye or Lena would make sure she left first -- but it still made her heart clench in a way that made her make an appointment with a cardiologist (and then cancel it because she was being ridiculous and she knew it).

But it pained her regardless and so she kept her group gatherings to a minimum. But this was Kara, and there had never been anything that Lena wouldn’t do for the blonde, including putting herself through excruciating emotional turmoil, so here she was sitting on the couch next to the pair, attempting to keep the meager flame of their friendship lit as she sifted through her Scrabble tiles. 

This was only the third game night she had attended since their feeble friendship had resumed. Things were still odd and stilted the way they always became whenever the conversation tipped to her or when someone referred to a moment during the period she had had her mental break, or when she would have to ask for clarification about something because it was an event that happened when she wasn’t around.

Kara -- blessed, patient Kara -- was always kind enough to fill her in while everyone else shifted uncomfortably around the table. She would even sometimes drop a comforting hand on her knee or squeeze her wrist gently as if to say, _“It’s okay. You’re here now.”_

Lena lived for those moments. She wondered if they would ever get back to that casual intimacy and tactility of their former relationship. The close cuddles on the couch, the hugs, the casual handholding. For someone as touch starved as Lena was, it had taken some getting used to, but now? Now, these moments when Kara would touch her were _everything._

She’s on her second glass of scotch, trying to block out the way William’s arm rests on the back of the couch behind her as he casually plays with Kara’s curls, when it all comes to a juddering halt.

Kara lays down her Scrabble tiles, a little pink in the cheeks as she adjusts her glasses nervously and says, “Myriad. Triple Letter Score on R.”

Lena’s heart abruptly halts and she can feel herself blanche at the word staring up at her, her stomach flipping from one side to the other as if it can’t decide which side of her body it’s supposed to be on. The Luthor in her quickly takes over though, and she schools her features, glancing over at Kara, who catches her eye and offers her a reassuring smile, like she _knows_ Lena’s inner turmoil, like she can see the guilt swimming through her bloodstream, the little wooden squares on the board stabbing her in the eyes like nails.

Tension sits heavy around the living room for a moment as Kara’s score is marked down and play is shifted to Nia. And it seems like the moment will pass and the group can mark this night as the moment when the SuperFriends could finally start making light of the events of the last year. That is, until William -- stupid, feckless William -- snorts and says, “Careful Kara, Luthor might steal that from you.”

She should have expected it. Everyone in their group knew what had gone on between her and Supergirl (even if the whole group didn't know that Kara and Supergirl were one and the same). But the word 'Myriad' and all it implies is a trigger and it still brings up terrible feelings and memories, makes her dig her fingernails into her arm and wish Lex had tried just a little harder to kill her one of those times. And for that reason it was usually left out of polite conversation, along with her indiscretions related to it. 

Apparently, William had not gotten that memo. 

His grin is self-assured, like he knows he just made a brilliant joke that everyone will appreciate, and didn't just poke a very painful place with hot poker, and that’s when Lena _knows_ \-- knows like she knows Galeon’s theory -- that this will never end. She will always be held to the standard of the lowest point in her life, where she acted out of pain and grief. 

Try as she might to assist Supergirl, to make amends, retake L-Corp and make it a force for good. As hard as she tries to repent, they will always see her as the evil Luthor woman who tried to mind control the world. 

For Kara’s part, she fixes him with the angriest glare that Lena has ever seen. Not even when she took Myriad, or when she reprimanded Kara for using it, or even in her lab when Kara had shouted at her, never has she seen her seethe like that. She took the smallest bit of comfort in that fact.

“What?” William asked, as if Kara was being unreasonable for not finding his “joke” funny. “It's just a joke.”

Kara’s nostrils flare and Lena wants to both sink into the couch away from the awkward tension and also kiss the blonde for being angry on her behalf. Sure, it's probably just because of the memories it dredges up for her too, but it's nice to imagine that Kara is defending her honour. 

“Jokes are funny for all involved,” Kara grits out, her teeth clenched together. She was fuming so hard, Lena thought she could see a hint of red glowing around her opal eyes.

William merely raises his hands in defeat and the game continues, with Lena staring down into her glass, her former realisation hitting her with due certainty. She would never belong here again, just like she didn’t belong in Metropolis anymore.

Except this time, Lex hadn’t burned all of her bridges for her. This time, she had gathered the wood, built the pyre, dumped the gasoline, and struck the matches all on her own.

Game night doesn’t last long after that. Lena spends the next hour or however long gameplay continues, thinking of where she might go. Somewhere she wouldn’t be bothered, where no one would give her a second look. Somewhere that she just might be able to put down roots away from stolen stares, uneasy smiles, and cellphone cameras surreptitiously pointed at her. Where she could maybe, for once in her life, just _heal_ , without worrying at whose expense her stability might come.

By the end of the night, she has a tentative destination and she holds it in her mind, glittering like an emerald. 

A loch, so dark it’s almost black. Towering mountain peaks. Cliffside pools in Hook Head. Kelly green hills and fields as far as her gaze could stretch. Clear, cold nights. Grey, rainy mornings and sun-drenched afternoons. Clover growing over the tips of her boots as she stands at the edge of a cliff, staring out at the Emerald Isles.

It’s there, and it’s real, and it fills her with the first bit of peace she’s been able to find since her world was torn to shreds more than a year ago.

***

_in this steamy a.m. Hades claps_

_its Herpes hands and_

_a woman sings through my radio,_

_her voices comes clambering_

_through the smoke, and the wine_

_fumes…_

_it’s a lonely time, she sings, and_

_you’re not_

_mine and it makes me feel so bad,_

_this thing of being me…_

***

Kara walks her to the door, apologising profusely for William’s joke in that endearing, rambling fashion that used to make Lena a little weak in the knees, even if she didn’t know what it meant at the time. It still makes her weak in the knees, but Lena isn’t delusional. She knows now where she stands, and she isn’t so stupid to think that she and Kara will ever be anything more than what they are right now.

“It’s fine, Kara. Really,” she sighs, giving the blonde a tired smile.

“No, it’s not,” Kara replies firmly, shaking her head. “That was uncalled for and unacceptable.”

And oh, Lena wants to read more into this, wants to believe that Kara means it. That they all thought his comment was tasteless and hurtful. But no one else had rushed to her defense. Did she even have a defense? Was she even entitled to one? Isn’t this what she deserved? Her penance for her crimes against her friends -- against the world?

“Really, Kara, it’s--there’s no harm done.” She gave a bitter laugh. “It’s not like I haven’t brought this kind of thing onto myself, right? I did it. Now I deserve to live with the consequences -- in whatever way I can.”

Kara frowns, stepping toward her, the light catching the concern in her clear blue eyes, and oh no that just won’t do, she thinks as a wave of pain washes over her. Lena can handle just about anything, but not Kara pitying her -- or even worse -- being this close to her with no buffer.

“Lena, you don’t deser--”

“It’s fine, Kara,” she cuts in, desperate to end whatever this conversation is going to become. Kara is much too close for comfort, and if Kara was going to try to reassure her, sympathise, or -- God forbid -- _hold her_ like she looked like she might, then Lena’s plan would go out the window entirely and she’d be stuck here on the fringes of a friend group she was no longer a part of, pining after a friend that was no longer hers, and that just wasn’t going to happen. She had a _bit_ more self-respect than that.

“But I really do have to go,” she continues, gathering her purse and slipping on her coat, swallowing back the lump in her throat and hoping that Kara isn’t listening to the rapid staccato of her heart jackhammering in her chest. “Early meetings and all of that.”

_And a lot of packing to do._

***

Lena leaves on a Tuesday. There’s very little fanfare, considering she hasn’t told anyone but Sam, Jess, and the relevant board members that she’s stepping down. It’s about two weeks after game night and Sam is back to run L-Corp. Sam, of course, calls her out immediately.

“So, you’re running away?” She asks casually as she pours over the documents in front of her.

“Not running away,” Lena huffs, dropping into her chair -- now Sam’s chair. “I’m just...absquatulating.”

Sam looks up from the paperwork with an arched eyebrow and an amused look in her eye. “Lena, that word literally means to ‘leave abruptly’.”

“And?”

“And isn’t that what you would call ‘running away’?”

“Sam,” Lena sighed, shoving her chair back. “Look, it’s just...I can’t stay here. There’s too much pain. Too many memories. Everyone hates me and they treat me like I’m about to shoot lightning out of my fingertips at any second.”

Sam nods, eyes back on her paperwork. “Understandable. You did go all Sith last year.”

_“Sam.”_

“Come on, Lena, you’re being ridiculous! Nobody _hates_ you. They’re all just nervous and awkward. And what about Kara? I know for a fact _she_ doesn’t hate you.”

“This isn’t about Kara,” Lena replies quickly.

“Oh. So it’s actually _all_ about Kara then?”

Lena grimaces, grabbing her purse, intent on not having this conversation any longer. “Look, I have a flight to catch, so anything that requires my attention or signature will have to be emailed.”

“Sure thing, you big chicken.”

Lena rolls her eyes and pulls Sam into a hug, unsure of when they might see each other again. “Say bye to Ruby for me.”

“I will,” Sam breathes into her ear, tightening her grip. “But for the record? I think this is a stupid idea. Kara’s not going to just let you go.”

Lena pulls back from the hug with a sad smile. “Yes she will, Sam. Trust me.”

Kara will be relieved not to have to maintain such an odd acquaintance with her. She’ll probably breathe a sigh of relief once she learns of her departure, grateful to her for the opportunity to stop pretending, grateful to not have to keep explaining to her friends why she keeps having Lena round. Besides, she rationalises, Kara had eulogised their friendship a long time ago, the night she had called her a villain. It wouldn’t be hard for her to do it again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where you’re going?”

Lena smiles, at least sure of this one thing. “No. I think I need to be alone for a while. And while I don’t _think_ anyone will come looking for me, telling you would raise the possibility of that happening. It’s for the best that I don’t.”

Sam shakes her head. “You know, for a genius you’re really fucking stupid.”

Lena huffs out a laugh, pulling her into one more hug.

“You’re probably right. But who does it hurt for me to try this?”

***

_once in a dream I saw a snake_

_swallowing its own_

_tail, it swallowed and swallowed_

_until_

_it got halfway round, and there it_

_stopped and_

_there it stayed, it was stuffed_

_with its own_

_self. some fix, that._

_we only have ourselves to go on,_

_and it’s_

_enough…_

***

Lena marked the page and breathed in deeply, exhaling in a long stream of warm breath that fogged up her glasses against the crisp Irish morning air. Tugging the sleeves of her sweater down over her palms, she cupped her mug and sipped it slowly, letting the warm tea slide down her throat and she imagined it was like sunlight that radiated outward from her chest to her fingertips. 

It had been three months since she’d arrived in the little seaside village in Wicklow, and it had taken some getting used to, being away from the hustle and bustle of National City. The quiet sometimes overwhelmed her at night when there were no traffic sounds, no helicopters landing and hovering. At first it had been oppressive, that kind of silence, and it had prompted lots of tears with the way it forced her to be alone with her thoughts -- which was never a good idea for anyone, if you asked her. But eventually she had learned to find comfort in the silence. The peace in the in-between.

The worst part was her thoughts always drifted to Kara. She wondered if the reporter had even realised she had gone. Had she looked for her? Had she talked to Sam? Sam hadn’t mentioned anything, but then they rarely spoke unless it was L-Corp related. Sam seemed to understand her need for isolation even if she didn’t agree with it. 

The fact was, the time alone had done wonders for her health and her self-esteem. She no longer got glares and uneasy stares when she went for a bite to eat or to the grocer once a week. She was drinking less, walking more, catching up on all the books and documentaries she had missed out over the past few years. She had been reading lots of poetry -- the sad kind that the writers wrote when they were in the depths of a depression-induced, alcohol-soaked haze. It helped, for some reason. It made her feel seen, less alone. She sat on her porch, or in the window seat if the weather was too cold, and watched clover spring up as spring inched its way out of frozen ground. Cowslip and sea aster bloomed beneath her bare feet and she delighted in the way the soft earth clung to her toes.

Lena Luthor with dirty feet. Lillian would have had a conniption. The thought made her smile.

Sometimes she felt alone, but that made sense. She _was_ alone. And the longer she stayed tucked away from the world, the more okay it felt. 

_we only have ourselves to go on,_

_and it’s_

_enough…_

***

Kara finds her on a Wednesday. It’s a perfectly normal day, nothing in the way the rain is falling on the grass to foreshadow that this would be the moment that everything changes. Lena’s just putting the kettle on when a fist raps on her door, the first tap a little softer than the others, like the person knocking wasn’t sure they wanted to go through with the action. If Lena hadn’t spent the last few months letting her guard down, she might have noticed this. Might not have answered the door at all.

But she _has_ spent the last few months letting her guard down, so she doesn’t notice it and it’s why she nearly has a cardiac infarction when she sees clear blue eyes framed behind thick black glasses staring back at her, pale pink lips chapped and scuffed from being worried between teeth sitting just a short distance below them.

The air is sucked out of the room and the first thought Lena has is that Kara has the ability to do this and she’s here to kill her. But that seems unreasonable when there are so many other ways -- easier ways -- that the Kryptonian might grind her into dust if she liked (including _literally_ grinding her into dust), so she settles on the idea that Kara is here for another reason and maybe the whole lack of oxygen thing is just her nervousness. 

She’s come a long way in the self-awareness department. 

(Credit where it’s due, thank you very much.)

No words come to her immediately so she waits for Kara to speak, and takes the opportunity to study the blonde. She doesn’t look well. The colour is gone from her cheeks and pale purple half moons sit below her eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, the eyes that appeared to be clear are actually tinged a pinkish-red, and her frame is slightly stooped, as if someone had bent the girl of steel’s shoulders against her will. The thought of someone doing that to Kara makes her sick to her stomach.

“Lena,” Kara chokes out, her voice raspy and just above a whisper. She says the name like a prayer. An offering. Something holy that should be handled with reverence. Lena doesn’t quite know what to think of that.

“How did you find me?”

It’s not the most pressing question begging to escape her lips, but it’s the only one she can bear to ask. _Does this mean you care about me? Are you only here because you need something? Did you miss me? Do you love me like I love you…_

Kara doesn’t answer, just licks her chapped lips and stares, her eyes roving over every inch of her face, her body, taking in her appearance and committing it to memory, her features hungry and wild.

Something in her eyes is different. There’s a darkness. She looks lost, even a little unhinged. 

Lena invites her in. 

“Tea?” She offers.

“You look good,” is all Kara replies as she stands in the middle of Lena’s little cottage. “Healthy. Happy.”

“I am,” Lena replies softly. She pauses in her movements. “You...don’t.”

Kara laughs at that. More of a scoff, really. A terrible, bitter thing that Lena is not used to hearing from the Paragon of Hope’s lips. “Well, no, I wouldn’t think so, considering.”

Lena frowns, puzzled. “Considering…?”

Kara stares at her in disbelief, like she can’t fathom Lena not understanding exactly what’s been happening.

“Look, I haven’t really been keeping up with the news, so if something’s happened--” she begins.

“You left!” Kara bursts out suddenly. “You left and you didn’t tell me! You didn’t tell anyone! No one knew where you were, not even Sam! You were here one minute and gone the next and I went to your apartment and all your things were covered in sheets and I thought...I thought…”

She falls into Lena’s armchair, her head dropping into her hands, her fingers clawing at her hairline as if she could pull her thoughts out by the roots. Silence falls between them, with Lena unsure of what she should say. She hadn’t thought Kara would _notice_ much less think she was dead or something. Should she apologise? Comfort her? Was that something they did anymore? God, she was terrible at interpersonal relationships.

The tea kettle whistling pulls her out of her thoughts and she shuts the flame off, not even bothering with it anymore. Perhaps scotch was more appropriate for this situation.

Finally, Kara lifts her head, her tear-stained cheeks shining in the beams of sunlight that have managed to push through the clouds and in through Lena’s windows.

“Why did you go?” She whispers, peering up at Lena, eyes full of hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She sniffles and wipes her nose before casting her eyes down to the tips of Lena’s rugged boots, a far cry from the Louboutins she used to wear. 

“Why did you leave me?” 

Her heartbroken whisper pierces Lena right in the chest. 

Lena lifts one shoulder in a hesitant shrug, twisting her fingers together. “I...didn’t think you’d notice.” She cleared her throat to urge her voice onto more solid ground. “I didn’t think it would matter to you -- to any of you.”

Her accent has gotten thicker since arriving here, she knows, but even accounting for that, her voice sounds so foreign to her own ears. Her argument sounds hollow now, even if she had been sure of it ten minutes ago.

Kara has risen from the chair and is standing in front of her before she even registers movement, and _god_ she is suddenly _keenly_ aware of their height difference and just how broad Kara’s shoulders are when they’re sitting just below eye level.

“How could you think I wouldn’t notice?” Kara whispers, eyes boring into her face even as tears escape them. For her part, Lena can’t make herself meet her gaze. “How can you think I wouldn’t care? That I wouldn’t search for you?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. She’d left to avoid hurting Kara more and she’d done it again anyway. Well, maybe this would be the last straw and Kara would realise she wasn’t worth the pain she was causing. “I--I didn’t mean to upset you. I left because I...thought it would be easier. For everyone. For you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Finally she meets Kara’s gaze and she gasps at the intensity she finds there as Kara steps closer to her, bringing a hand up to cup a cheek she hadn’t even realised was wet. There’s a warmth radiating from the blonde’s hand and her proximity and Lena feels it spreading through her body in a way that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end and makes her sleepy at the same time. It’s comforting and yet the most uncomfortable she’s ever felt. It’s disorientating, yet she feels perfectly balanced.

“Lena,” Kara breathes, the ghost of her breath spilling across Lena’s lips. “How could being away from you ever be the right thing for me?”

Her thumb drags across Lena’s bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, and Lena suddenly can’t remember her name and she finds she’s okay with that. Maybe she can be reborn in this moment as someone worthy of the way Kara is looking at her, like she’s something precious to behold. 

“Don’t you know that there _is_ no me without you?” 

Kara’s lips are close. _Way_ too close. The ‘brushing against her own’ kind of close. Lena’s no expert on friendship, considering the way all of hers have gone up in flames, but she’s pretty sure friends don’t do _this._

“What--what about William?” She whispers, as if that’s the most pressing issue right now and not ‘do you love me’ or ‘your lips are much too close to not be kissing me right now’.

Kara stares at her blankly for a moment. “William? What about him?”

“....Aren’t you two dating?” Lena asks slowly, puzzlement evident in her voice.

Kara huffs out a laugh and presses her forehead against Lena’s, inhumanly warm against Lena’s icy skin.

“No! Rao, no! Not since that game night. And anyway, I only dated him because everyone said I should. I thought maybe it would help...distract me from you.”

Lena’s heart stopped and her breath hitched. “Distract you? I thought you liked him. He--he bakes. And he’s a journalist. And he sings. Isn’t that like...all of your things?”

Kara shook her head and laughed softly. “Lena, don’t you get it? _You’re_ my thing. I ended it with him because he was a tool, but also because it wasn’t fair to keep dating him...not when I’m in love with _you_.”

Lena’s eyes widened and her pulse quickened as Kara’s words worked their way into her brain and wrapped around her heart like ivy. “You -- you’re -- _say that again?_ ”

Kara smiled softly and cupped her cheeks with both hands, tilting her chin up. 

_“I’m in love with you.”_

And really, Lena should have played it cooler, but when you realise that the woman you’ve been pining after -- unwittingly or consciously -- for the past five years tells you that she loves you, what else are you supposed to do other than drag her lips down to yours and kiss her as hard as you can before she changes her mind or you realise it’s all a dream?

So that’s what she does.

It should be awkward, is the thing. They had gone from friends, to enemies, to teammates (?), to awkward acquaintances, to strangers again. It should be weird and foreign and uncomfortable, but it’s not. Not even a little bit.

It feels like coming home. It feels like an Irish summer day or an ocean breeze caressing her skin. It feels like flowers bursting out of the frost-laden ground in spring and the promise of something new and whole. Kara’s lips slot over hers and the warmth of her breath and her sweet vanilla scent wrap around Lena until she feels a bit like she’s one of those sticky buns Kara buys by the dozen. 

Lena fists her hands into Kara’s button up, terrified she might fly off at any moment or pull away and say the whole thing was just a prank that her friends put her up to, and in exchange, Kara backs her up to the kitchen counter until it presses into her back and Kara presses into her and her heart presses against her ribs in a bid to escape out of her chest and into Kara’s.

Only when she’s literally suffocating does she pull away, quickly pulling in deep lungfuls of air -- just enough so that she can dive back in -- while Kara keeps them pressed close together, nosing her cheek and whispering gently, _“I love you, Lena. I love you so much,”_ over and over again, and Lena’s not sure when she took a hallucinogen because surely this can’t be real, but she’s grateful to whomever slipped it to her because she thinks this is as close to a religious experience as she’s ever going to get.

Tears fall down her cheeks as Kara presses kisses to her forehead and her nose, her chin, both cheeks, the corners of her mouth, and finally her lips again. 

“I love you too,” she sobs out, and Kara stills, pulling her face into her neck and carding her fingers through coal-coloured locks, and she’s not sure when she last felt this _safe_ and cared for. The tears continue falling until she’s incoherent, stuttering out unintelligible phrases and wetting Kara’s collar with her tears and saliva and snot.

And Kara -- sweet, strong, perfect Kara -- just picks her up in her unfairly strong arms and carries her to bed, pulling back the covers and removing Lena’s boots. She discards her own jacket and joins her under the duvet, pulling Lena into her body as tightly as she can, as if she _knows_ Lena needs the pressure, as if she _understands_ that Lena needs to know she’s there -- needs to _feel_ her solid presence. 

It’s so tender and loving and just what Lena needs and it makes her sob just a little harder into Kara’s neck until she finally falls asleep, wrapped in the arms of a God.

*** 

_the area dividing the brain and the soul_

_is affected in many ways by_

_experience --_

_some lose all mind and become soul:_

_insane_

_some lose all soul and become mind:_

_intellectual_

_some lose both and become:_

_accepted_

When Lena wakes, the poem is the first thing that drifts through her sleep-hazy mind, and suddenly it makes sense. 

She had tried to lose all soul, living on cold logic, when she discovered Kara’s lie. Then she had thrown logic out the window and tried to live on pure soul when she’d run away. 

Acceptance from the rest of the world may never be in the cards for her, but acceptance without mind and soul was mundanity, and neither she nor Kara were mundane people.

It occurred to her that there was one method she hadn’t tried yet, and as a scientist, she knew leaving a method untested was an unholy abomination. She hadn’t tried to live all _heart_. 

It would be dangerous. She might get hurt again.

But somehow, with Kara’s body curled tightly around her -- so tight it made breathing difficult -- her warm, hushed breaths coming in soft puffs as her chest rose and fell softly, Lena realised:

Some things were worth the risk.

**Author's Note:**

> All poems are from Charles Bukowski's "You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense" and "What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through Fire" because I'm a sad bitch.


End file.
